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About the project
Is the quite by which the Tribe leaves by.
The Tribe is a "radical" group located in Northern Kansas. According to all who have seen or interacted with them, they are next to insane and have outlandish views.
Although, most people who encounter them are offered to join them, and often accept, mostly out of fear.
And the few that decline,
Their remains aren't found for awhile. Despite this, many have escaped them, and witnessed them.
Approximately January 17, 2084, a USRC patrol disappeared in a area where the Tribe was rumored to be active.
Later, their bodies were found, mutilated beyond recognition.
Their guns and vehicle was gone.
As of now, no other info is available.
The Tribe's philosophy is that they are the "Ones". Visionaries.
After the bombs dropped, a group of unaltered humans formed a group with the idea they were gifted, and believed they would be heroes of humanity, enslaving it and weeding out the mutated, or as they referred to them as the "Sickness."
They began to grow, recruiting people to their cause, promising power and riches.
The following is a file describing an encounter with an Tribe member.
Jason gripped the weapon, his mind racing, adrenaline ready to take over. He bit down on his tongue, and tightened the grip in the handgun. He stood, trembling, staring at the cold emptiness ahead of him. It was empty, and yet full, full of horrendous things, things that would surely be the end of any wastelander.
Not Jason, though.
He had raised himself to survive in this environment, as had the others. Surviving mutated predators, USRC patrols, and radicals. The gun he had found on a USRC soldier's body, which had been mutilated beyond human recognition. The mark of the Tribe. The Radicals.
Jason had run-ins with a few. They were insane, intent on world domination, with crazy beliefs and even worse, insane combatants. He barely survived.
And now he was encountering them again.
They had chased him from his home, screaming battle cries and shooting arrows at him. An bullet had brazed his thigh, peeling back skin and leaving a sort of limp. It was a burning pain, stinging horribly and bleeding massively.
He had left it untouched, cornered himself in the hills with a single 9mil handgun.
But he had more than that. He had himself, his resources and his mutation.
Why hadn't it worked? It usually helped him regenerate much faster, healing simple cuts in a matter of seconds, and fractures in minutes.
But his thigh had remained injured, the wound bleeding more than before, the warm liquid running down his leg. He feared what would happen if he didn't clean it, but he was even more frightened of what would happen if he let his guard down. The Tribe would come, would attack him, kill him, slowly and brutally.
No, no, he didn't want that.
No one did.
He heard footfalls around the hill, and he raised the weapon up from his waist, where he had held at before.
"Hey! If you're out there, show yourselves! I- I have a gun!" Jason stuttered, suffering to raise his voice.
"Heh heh heh..." a voice cackled out, low and soft, yet menacing.
His hands slowly started to heat up, getting warmer and warmer, whilst his body stayed cool.
[i] There it is.. [/i]
Suddenly, a large figure jumped down and swung at him, Jason barely ducking beneath the man's weapon and getting to the side, out of the way. The man cackled, and charged Jason again. Jason, raised his hand, and fired the gun into the man.
The man just chuckled, insanely, and continued to run, forcing Jason to take steps backward.
He fired once more, the bullet in placing itself in the man's chest, with red liquid squirting out, but the man felt nothing, still charging him, almost happily, so insane.
Jason stood still, waiting for the man to stab him. As the man got closer, and began to swung what Jason then noticed was a spear with a blade shaped like an axe, he raised his left hand, the heat building up, and dispersing itself from Jason's body. It hit the man straight in, a large orb of orange heat, and began to melt away the man, killing the insane man.
[i] I need to leave this place,[/i] he thought to himself, tossing the gray pistol to the ground. He rushed away from the hills, a steady jog, as the thigh had begun to heal, finally, the regeneration at work.